


Mistaken Luggage

by BazzyBoy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Biting places you might not want bitten, Everyone is 19+, F/M, One Shot, Oral, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazzyBoy/pseuds/BazzyBoy
Summary: You grab the wrong bag at the airport. Luckily the owner of the bag happens to be staying at the same hotel as you.
Relationships: Yuri Plisetsky/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 109





	Mistaken Luggage

You’ve been a big fan of Yuri Plisetsky ever since he won the Grand Prix in 2016. His free skate was amazing. You wish you could have been there, but you were only seventeen at the time and your mom wouldn’t let you go to Barcelona. 

This is the first time you’ve been able to go see it in person because the Grand Prix is taking place in the US this year. It was only a couple hours away by plane. 

When you get to the hotel, there’s a crowd of Yuri’s fan girls in the front wearing cat ears. They’re cute but they’re a little much. You love Yuri, but you wouldn’t ever act that silly. Plus, you’re 21 and they’re all younger teenagers.

You make your way through the crowd, check in and go to your room. 

It’s a bit late so you decide to put on something more comfortable. The black skinny jeans you’re wearing might be a bit too tight. 

You put your leopard print suitcase on the bed and unzip it. But your stuff isn’t inside. There’s ice skates and a competition costume. 

“Oh no!” you say, realizing you must have gotten your bag swapped at the airport. 

You quickly zip it back up, then take it down to the lobby. The hotel staff probably know how to help sort this out. 

You walk up to someone at the front desk and say, “Excuse me. I think I got my bag switched at the airport.”

He looks at your bag, smiles at points right. 

Your eyes follow and end up on Yuri Plisetsky, at the other end of the long check in counter, berating a nervous hotel employee who’s on the phone. He has a leopard print suitcase just like yours. 

For a moment, you consider walking away. The idea of talking to him seems overwhelming and judging by the way he’s growling what you’re guessing is Russian profanities at the man on the phone, he probably won’t be happy with you for stealing his suitcase. Even if it was an accident. 

But before you have a chance to make a choice, he sees you. He goes quiet and his eyes narrow. 

You smile awkwardly and walk up to him.    
  
“You have my bag?” he asks in a thick Russian accent. 

“I think so,” you say nervously as you internally panic that you’re actually talking to Yuri Plisetsky.  _ Yuri Plisetsky. _

“Do you not know how to read?” he asks you. 

“I- uhh,” you stammer then look at the tag on the suitcase. It doesn’t have anything written on it. “Did you write your name on yours?” you ask. 

He rolls his eyes and says, “Take me to your room. I need to make sure you’re not a J.J. fangirl trying to sabotage my skates… You look like a J.J. fangirl.”

Your mind short circuits and instead of taking offense to that, you just say, “Sure,” and turn around.

You go to the elevator and get in with Yuri  _ fucking _ Plisetsky following you.

Neither of you say anything the whole way up and you’re too nervous to look directly at him. 

When you finally get to your room, he takes the suitcase you had, puts it on the bed and unzips it. He looks through everything and sighs with relief. Then he zips it back up and sets it on the floor. 

“You here for the Grand Prix?” he asks you, without looking at you, as he walks over to the mini fridge and starts rifling through it. 

You say, “yeah,” but can’t bring yourself to elaborate any further. 

He takes a couple of the mini liquor bottles and sits on the couch.

You must have a confused look on your face because he says, “You took my bag. You owe me a drink.”

These bottles are probably going to cost a small fortune but you don’t argue. 

“Are you here to support any particular skater?” he asks, then opens the bottle and starts drinking. 

“No,” you lie. You don’t usually lie and don’t know why you started now. 

He nods as he finishes the bottle. He starts opening the next bottle.

Suddenly your brain kicks on, and you say, “Aren’t you nineteen?”

“Da, why?”

“You’re not old enough to drink,” you tell him and reach to take the other bottle from him. 

He holds the bottle away from you and says, “In Russia you can drink when you’re eighteen.”

“Well, this isn’t Russia,” you say, still trying to get the bottle from him. You’re afraid to touch him because you don’t want to somehow injure him before he skates tomorrow, so you’re awkwardly towering over him. 

“Just let me drink this and I’ll go,” he complains, sounding almost bored. 

“Why don’t you just drink in your own room?” you ask. At least that way you wouldn’t get in trouble.

“My coach would kill me when he sees the bill,” he groans.

“Is that why you came in here? To steal liquor?” you ask, kinda mad that he’d use you like that. 

You lunge forward, trying to reach for the bottle then fall right onto him. You feel his lips brush against your forehead as your head awkwardly falls onto his chest. You feel vibrations all across your body as he starts laughing. 

You scramble to get up, being careful not to put your hands on him. You end up having to roll off him and fall on the floor.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sounding genuine. 

Physically, you’re fine, but you’re so mad that he would put you in a situation like this that you feel tears start to well up. 

You don’t even know you’re yelling until you already hear yourself saying, “No, I’m not okay! I came all the way here just to see you and now you’re in my room stealing vodka! And if you get hungover and don’t skate your best tomorrow, it’ll be  _ my fault _ , and I could get in legal trouble for giving alcohol to a minor!” 

Tears are freely falling from your eyes but you refuse to sob.

He stands up and gives you a hand. You take it and he helps you to your feet. 

“You’re right,” he says. “... It’s just the stress of the competition and then losing my suitcase… That’s no excuse though.”

You nod but can’t look him in the eye right now. This wasn’t how this trip was supposed to go. This was supposed to be a fun weekend and now you’re crying in front of Yuri.

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, then he asks, “Is there anything I can do to make this right? I could get an autograph or better seats or something.”

“Can you just hug me?” you ask, then immediately feel embarrassed. For some reason you’re just having a hard time controlling what you say around him. 

He slowly wraps his arms around you and you wrap your arms around him. 

He’s a bit taller than you, and his body is firm and warm against you. He gives you a squeeze and for some reason that makes you lose composure and you sob into his shoulder.

He doesn’t let go and starts gently stroking your hair. The feeling is really comforting. You stop crying and just enjoy being held in his arms. 

“I don’t want to let go,” you admit. 

“I don’t have anywhere to be until tomorrow,” he says. 

“So, I can have you for the night?” you ask, having no idea where this boldness is coming from. 

“If that’s what you want… Wait. How did you know I was nineteen? You’re not one of Yuri’s Angles, are you?” he asks, letting go of you.

“No, no. I’m a fan. But, I’m not one of them,” you assure him. 

“So you’re not going to put cat ears on me?” he asks suspiciously. 

You shake your head, and he says, “Good.”

You both stand there awkwardly until he asks, “So what were you going to do tonight before I interrupted?”

“Probably watch TV then order room service.” 

He picks up the remote and hands it to you, then sits on the couch . You sit down next to him and start flipping through channels. You end up on a channel playing Friends reruns, and he rests an arm on the couch behind you.

You lean into him a bit and he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry,” you say, panicking. “I was just trying to get comfortable.”

He ignores you and looks back at the TV. 

“I can’t believe you said I look like a J.J. fan,” you say. “Anyone who wears sunglasses on their head like that is a douche.”

He smiles at that and says, “Maybe I was a little harsh.”

“A little? He’s the worst. His skate routines are always boring. Well, unless he’s fucking up all his jumps. That’s fun to watch.”

He laughs and asks, “Who do you like watching?”

“To be honest, mostly you. You’re just so graceful on the ice. You always blend the jumps and choreography so beautifully.”

“Thanks,” he says. He looks a little nervous and you wonder why. 

“Are you worried about your short program tomorrow?” you ask. 

“Why would I be?”he asks, sounded a bit offended. 

“I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be. You’re going to do great.”

“You think so?” he asks, with a cocky smile. 

“I know so,” you say and take his hand. 

To your surprise, he doesn’t retract his hand. 

Normally you wouldn’t be so forward, but you might never have a chance like this again, so you ask, “Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. The question seems to have caught him by surprise. But then he quietly says, “Da.” 

You lean forward and press your lips against his. They’re warm and soft against you. 

You pull away, but then he puts a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you back. He kisses you again. Then again. Then his mouth opens a little and you let your tongue slip inside. It doesn’t taste like vodka. It just tastes like water. 

The feeling of your tongue in his mouth floods you with hormones and you want more. 

You climb on top of him and sit on his lap, with your knees on either side of him. 

You put your hands under his shirt and run your fingers over his stomach. It is smooth and surprisingly hard. You can feel the divots in the muscle. 

He leans back and takes his shirt off for you, revealing surprisingly chiseled abs.

You slowly look up, taking in this sight, and when your eyes meet his, you go back to kissing him. 

The way his tongue enters your mouth is so slow and smooth, like he’s taking his time to enjoy you.

He slowly moves a hand up your shirt and cups your breast. After getting a good feel, he starts massaging it gently. 

You break from the kiss to take off your own shirt, revealing your leopard print bra. His eyes sparkle at the sight. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he tells you.

He puts his hands on your ass then stands up, holding you up as well. You wrap your arms and legs around him so you won’t fall, but he wouldn’t let you fall anyways.

He carries you to the bed then sets you down. He gives you another deep kiss, then gently pushes you onto your back. 

He carefully takes off your shoes and socks, then moves back up to unbutton your pants. After he unzips them, the pulls at the pants around the ankles. You lift your hips and shimmy out of the jeans as he pulls them off. 

Then you remember you’re not wearing the sexiest underwear in the world. You look down at your leopard boxer briefs and your cheeks heat up. Not the most lady-like underwear in the world. 

When you look up at him, his jaw is dropped and you’re about to blame it on laundry day, but then he says, “These are incredible! Where did you get them?”

“I uhh…” You trail off as you see him take off his pants. His body is perfect and he’s standing there wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. 

He smiles devilishly at you, then climbs onto you. He sucks on a spot on your neck and it makes you shudder. Then he slowly kisses his way from your neck to your mouth. He kisses you deeply. You’ve never been kissed quite like this and don’t want it to stop. 

But then it does as he starts kissing down your chin, then down your neck and across your chest. He sucks on the exposed part of your breast, while cupping it over the bra. 

Eventually he continues his way down, kissing your stomach until he reaches your underwear. 

He looks up at you and says, “At any point, if you want me to stop, let me know. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, breathily. 

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your boxers and slowly pulls them down. 

He smiles at you again, causing you to blush. Then he puts his head between your legs. 

You panic and consider asking him to stop even though you don’t want it to stop. 

Then his tongue slides against your clit and you make a high pitched noise you didn’t know you were capable of. 

His tongue rubs up and down against your clit and you’ve never felt anything like it. You grip the bed sheets as bolts of pleasure shoot through you making your breath hitch. 

He reaches up, takes your hand and puts it in his hair. He stops and it takes considerable effort not to whimper. Then he says, “Don’t cum. If you’re about to, pull my hair.”

You nod and he goes back to licking your clit. Your eyes flutter as pleasure pulsates through you. Every stroke of his tongue makes you crave it more. 

His hands are on your hips, and his fingers are digging into you so hard you think it might bruise but everything feels too good to care. 

As his tongue continues to move against you, you feel your pulse quicken. Your breathing starts feeling shallow as the pressure his tongue is threatening to send you into orgasmic bliss. 

You feel it building up inside you, so you pull his hair.

You yelp in surprise as he gently but firmly bites your clit. 

“What the hell?” you ask and pull his hair harder. 

He bites you harder causing you to wince in pain. It’s not the most painful thing ever, but it does hurt. 

You let go of his hair and he lets go of your clit and says, “If you pull my hair, I bite you.”

“You’re the one that told me to do it!” you complain. 

“If I told you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?” he asks.

You say, “No,” then moan as he grinds his palm against you.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he tells you as his face disappears back between your legs.

He takes your hand and puts it back in his hair then goes back to licking, making you moan more. 

You wonder to yourself how his tongue isn’t tired yet, but that thought quickly slips away as you feel the impending orgasm build. 

You pull his hair and whimper as he bites. You don’t know what’s worse. The biting or the orgasm denial. Yet this might be the most fun you’ve ever had. 

You let his hair go slack and he goes back to licking but you’re still on the brink so you quickly pull his hair again. 

His teeth clamp down on you, making you whine, but you know if you let go you will cum. You grit your teeth as you wait for yourself to cool down. But the longer he bites the more it starts to hurt. 

You growl, trying to ignore the pain building up as your eyes begin to water.

Finally you are ready again, and you let go of his hair. He sucks on your clit and you moan so loud, you’re worried people in the other rooms can hear you.

You’re panting when you ask, “When do I get to cum?”

He slips two fingers into you and curls them up against your g spot and says, “I haven’t decided yet.”

You moan as new waves of pleasure wash over you. 

After a moment, you’re able to collect your thoughts and you ask, “Do you want to have sex?”

He kisses your inner thigh while he moves his fingers in you, then says, “Da.”

He takes his fingers out and goes to his suitcase. He unzips it and rummages around until he finds a condom and holds it up for you to see. 

Thank god, because you didn’t think to bring any with you. 

You watch him as he steps out of his boxer briefs and feel your face flush at the sight of the large erection he’s sporting. 

After he puts on the condom, he gets on top of you and kisses you slowly and deeply. His kisses trail to your ear, then he whispers, “Are you ready?”

“Very,” you tell him.

He moves a hand down between you and slowly guides his cock in. It doesn’t really hurt but you can feel it stretching you. You both gasp as he bottoms out in you. 

He looks you in the eyes as he slowly pulls out and gently slides back in making you shudder.

You stare at his blue eyes and slightly opened mouth as he carefully thrusts in and out of you. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. 

“Harder,” you tell him.

He grabs you by the thigh, pulling you closer to him, and slams into you making you cry out in pleasure. He does it again and again, eyes sparkling as he watches you come undone. 

Both of your breathing becomes ragged and you start moaning in unison as he thrusts into you. 

You feel the heat building up inside you and you know you’re going to cum soon. You pull his hair to let him know. 

He smiles and through shallow breaths, says, “Cum for me, kotyonok.”

You feel your body tremble as pleasure explodes through you. You try to keep eye contact but your eyes are fluttering shut as you squeal. 

Soon his thrusts quicken as your nails dig into his back and he moans loudly then collapses on you. 

He rolls off you and you both lay there, trying to catch your breath. 

Then you both fall asleep.

The next thing you know, you’re awake and the sun is starting to come out. You’re not sure when, but at some point over the night you got under the blankets together.

You hear suitcase zippers, look over and see Yuri wearing your leopard print boxer briefs. 

“Those are mine,” you remind him. 

“Neit. They  _ were  _ yours. They’re mine now,” he informs you.

“You’re still stealing from me?” you ask, poking fun at him. 

He walks over to you, puts a hand in your hair and kisses you. 

“I’ll buy you a new pair after I win gold. Da?” he asks. 

“Okay,” you agree, wondering if that means last night wasn’t a one night stand. 

He gets dressed then opens your wallet. He takes a card out and puts it in his pocket. 

“Okay, I draw the line at taking my credit card,” you tell him. 

He laughs and says, “It’s the room key. I’m leaving my stuff in here. You’ll need to get another one from the front desk.”

“Alright,” you agree. Not that he was asking. Not that you mind he wasn’t asking. 

“I left you a backstage pass on the nightstand. If I don’t see you there, I’ll see you tonight. Goodbye, kotyonok.”

Once he’s gone, you put on his underwear and get ready to go watch him practice.


End file.
